Kitten
by Tsukiyono Omi
Summary: Omi finds himself in a place he doesnt want to be... Yaoi, lime, non-con, death T_T


I dont own anyone, I wish I did...'specially Nagi and Omi. *-*   
WARNINGS: heavy lime, some heavy language, non-con sex, yaoi, character death T_T   
  
  
Kitten  
  
  
His head pounded to the time of the throbbing music. Lights flashed and music pounded; the fast-paced English words more than a bit foreign to his usually clear mind. He took another gulp of the strange blue liquid, concentrating on the sweet taste rather than the biting sting at the back of his throat.  
  
He watched people dance, squinting each time a coloured spotlight flashed into his eyes. "Hnn. Stupid, all of them."  
  
Someone slid into the seat next to him, "Hello, Kitten."  
  
He knew that voice. Only one man in all of Japan could have such a taunting, nasal voice. "Schwarz." He didn't care. If the Schwarz man was there to kill him, so be it. It was better than his life at the moment.  
  
"Hora, hora! Is that any way to talk to your saviour? I've come here to grant all of your wishes, Kitten."  
  
"Fuck off."  
  
Jade eyes glimmered, "Be careful of what you wish for, Kitten... Well then, shall we go?"  
  
Cautious eyes studied the man over an empty shot glass, "Where to?"  
  
Schuldich grinned, "Away, of course. Away from all of them. That's what you wanted, isn't it? To get away from all of them?" it was more a statement than a question. He slid an arm around slight shoulders, knowing exactly which buttons to push. "I can take you away from them. Away from this terrible existence that you so hate..."  
  
Trembling hands slammed the glass on the bar, then grabbed Schuldich's wrist roughly, "Get me the hell outta here."  
  
Schuldich grinned, pulling the younger man to his feet, "That's a good Kitten, Come with me now; Schu-sama will make everything better."  
  
He allowed himself to be lead past the throng of dancers, outside to a small ally way behind the club. "Where we goin'?" He stumbled over the words, mind fuzzy and clouded from countless shots of various drinks.  
  
"Right here, Kitten. Away from all of the people."  
  
He was pushed roughly into the wall, any chance of protest cut off by lips moving violently over his own. Hands pulled at his clothes, ripping them in several places. They weren't his own clothes anyway. Not important.  
  
Schuldich moved quickly and with a purpouse, completely stripping the other but not caring to admire the view.  
  
He didn't care. Schuldich's intent was obvious, but he didn't care. He was turned to face the wall, his body rubbing painfully against the brick. A hand fitted over his mouth. He soon found out why; his scream was muted as flesh pushed into flesh. Unstretched and unlubricated, he whimpered as Schuldich violated him mercilessly.   
  
Schuldich smirked, "Is that what you wanted? What you wanted from him?"   
  
He pushed back against the pounding, torn and bleeding, but not feeling through the drink-induced haze. Was this what he'd wanted? Somehow, he thought being raped wasn't what he'd had planned for the nite. Was it rape if he didn't care?  
  
Hands wrapped around his neck, cutting off his air supply. Anaerobic asphyxiation? Did that turn him on? Then again, did being raped by an enemy? He could breathe, but it was laboured and hard to come.   
  
The hands clenched as the German came violently, burying himself to the hilt within the unyielding flesh. They remained as he pulled out, leaning over to whisper to his captive, "You haven't come yet, Kitten. Didn't you like it?"   
  
The world was full of a black haze. From drinking, or lack of air? There was no more pain. Only the haze.  
  
  
  
  
It was sunny. Too sunny. Why was it sunny on such a dark day? They stood over the small mound of fresh dirt, silent. Familiar clothing on them all; marked by long white crosses, silver buckles, and an orange sweater.   
  
They stood together, but alone. One openly cried, one stood silently, looking away as he chewed on the end of an unlit cigarette. The final one stared at the grave, violet eyes trying to penetrate the dirt.   
  
Finally, the violet-eyed one turned, still silent, and returned to the nearby car. The others followed, leaving the fresh grave of their friend for the first-and last-time.   
  
  
Owari!   
  
Well, theres my depressing SchuxOmi fic. Reviews, onegai? 


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